Steampunk Nights - Chapter 6

Record Author: Izyad Mishtan, Acolyte of Osiris
Location:  Ashen

After leaving Sheik Kazim's tent, we went our separate ways in order to attend to our own final preparations.  I took the opportunity to discover just where this northern road was, being quite unfamiliar with the town.

On the way, I bought a horse and other supplies and foodstuffs that I might need on my journey.  My supply of small gems I brought with me from home was fast dwindling.  Luckily my share of the pay for the job of guarding Antoro's caravan would refill my purse somewhat.  The merchant I worked with was quite helpful in directing me to the proper spot where my rendezvous with the others was to take place.

I was happy to find Fabro next to a wagon of his own when I came upon the road.  He had already harnessed the horses and was tightening straps on some oddly bulky cargo in the rear of the cart.

“Are you bringing a load of trade goods with you to sell in Trat, Fabro?” I asked him.

“Huh?” Fabro glanced over at me as he replied.  Seeing that it was I, he answered, “No, these are my tools.  I don't go anywhere without my tools.”

“So.  Why is that?”

“Can't build or fix anything without them,” he said with a grin.  He clapped his hands to rid them of dust, then picked up a toolbelt that was loaded with bizarre and unknown devices and buckled it around his waist.  Included among the unfamiliar implements was a finely tooled leather holster for a rather spectacular-looking and well cared for weapon.  A T-Hand Cannon of some kind, but unlike any I had seen before.  It had several strange levers, buttons, and glowing displays.  What looked like a small naval spyglass was bolted to the top of it.  Polished metal and gleaming wood were carved alike with small artistic details.

“Beautiful!  Where did you get it?” I asked with delight, pointing.

With a grin and a deft movement of his arm, Fabro drew the T-Hand Cannon.  “Like it?  I built it myself and it's aim is true!”  Conspiratorially he added, “And I've added several special modifications as well.”

“Improvements?”

Fabro looked a bit uncomfortable.  “Well... Modifications anyway.  Some of them need a bit of work yet, I'll admit.”  He put the weapon away, cleared his throat, and went back to work.  I pitched in, helping him to load sacks of provender for the horses.

While we worked and chatted about what Trat might be like (neither of us having been there before), a teamster sitting on a nearby wagon called out to us.

“What's that about Trat?  You heading that way, then?”

“And what if we are, sir?  What concern is it of yours?” Fabro asked.  Not with hostility, merely the common caution which all travelers must have if they want to live long in an untamed and bandit-infested wilderness.

“That's our town,” the man said, “And if you're heading the same way, then we should stick together.”

“That is exactly our plan!” I said with a smile, “We have been hired as guards with two others by the honorable Antoro Bassini – not an hour past.”

The man took off his hat and dabbed at his forehead with a rag.  “That's a most welcome bit of news.”  He turned his head and bellowed, “Heyah, lads!  Bassini's got us some muscle for the trip back!”

A chorus of happy-sounding replies echoed back to him and he turned his head back to us with a wide grin.  Almost instantly, we were surrounded by a group of delighted folks – relief evident on all their countenances.

Introductions were soon made.  The large, bald man who first hailed us seemed to be the leader, or the most experienced teamster at least.  He introduced himself as Guiseppe.

Guiseppe and the rest of the men (and one woman) were very surprised that Antoro had paid for the extra expense of guards.  Surprised, but grateful. 

“Why didn't you have more than one person as an armed consort before?  Seems a bit risky to me,” Fabro said.

“Maybe you haven't noticed, but... ah...  Mr. Bassini is a bit hesitant to incur extra expenses, shall we say?”

“Truly?  Is profit so important as to ignore the risks of the wild?”

“It's not just like that,” Guiseppe said with a wave of one hand, “Most beasts and monsters stay away from our roads, as they rightfully fear our wrath.  And we've never had too much worry about bandits, because we don't trade in cargo that would be easy for them to fence.  A single armed guard has been more than adequate for decades.”

“What of your town?” I asked, “If the threat on the roads has increased, are you not worried that the monsters will attack your home as well?”

“Haw!  Never!  We have a trim little militia back home.  Mostly made up of the miners.  And we've got more clockwork than some towns, too.  We have three Steam Tractors for doing heavy work and all of them have been modified for double duty as combat platforms.  The drill tractor makes an unforgettable mess out of most beasties, let me tell you!”

Fabro's eyebrows raised in wonder.  “Your town has three Steam Tractors?”

“And a Steam Cart,” Guiseppe stated with pride as he tossed his head over one shoulder in the direction of a rusty-looking heap.  “It's a bit beat down, but it keeps up fine with the horses and can haul a mountain of weight!”

“Trat must be doing pretty well for itself or have some wealthy patrons,” Fabro stated with respect. “No offense, but towns the size of Trat rarely have more than one clockwork mount.”

“None taken,” laughed Guiseppe.  “And you are right on both counts.  We started the town with the Steam Cart and the Mining Tractor.  Both gifts from the Orsini Family.  But the other two Steam Tractors are new and paid for by the office of the mayor free and clear.  And much of that is due to Antoro Bassini himself.”

“How so?” I asked.

“Handles all of the town's finances, does Mr. Bassini.  And no one is better at it than he.  We've done very well for ourselves with him as the deputy mayor.”

“Our taxes have never been so low!” called out one of the other teamsters.

“It's true,” agreed Guiseppe, “He's somewhat of a wizard with coin, and since our town has been so profitable of late, he's been able to lower our community taxes by a large bit.  Truth be told, I think he's been on the top of his game this journey – even with the loss of a cart of Vischiosap and losing poor Angelina.  We've made a larger profit than I can ever remember making before, and I've been caravan master for many years!  Mr. Bassini is the best at deal-making I've ever seen!  And he shares his good fortune, don't he lads?”

“Hooray for Antoro!” called out one of the men, sounding a bit tipsy.

Dhaja rode up to our circle of conversation on a fine white horse – I think he must have heard the drunken cheer of our employer's name.

“Well met, teamsters of Trat,” he said in greeting.  He received many gracious replies.  Turning to Fabro he asked, “Have you learned anything more about our task?”

“Just that we will be riding with an experienced teamster crew,” Fabro replied.  The teamsters elbowed each other and stood up a bit straighter at the praise.

Dhaja nodded.  “Excellent.  Nihani has not yet arrived?”  Fabro shook his head.  Dhaja did not look shocked at this news.

“Men,” Dhaja began, “I have a few questions about the monsters that attacked you.  Any information that you can provide us will help us keep our trip to Trat safe.  Can you speak with us?”

Murmurs of agreement.

“It is fine,” Dhaja said, looking quite pleased.  “We have heard from Antoro about the attack, but sometimes one can glean important details from a different perspective.  Tell me of the ambush.”

Guiseppe puffed out his cheeks and blew out a lungful of air before he began.  “It happened just before we stopped for the night.  It's a five-day trip from here to Trat, you know, and we must let the horses rest overnight when we can.  We've got a nice series of campsites that we use for that purpose.”

“You always camp in the same spots?” Dhaja asked with a trace of concern in his voice.

“Sure.  It's convenient and ever so nice not to have to clear the ground for our bedrolls,” the lady teamster piped up.

Fabro's brow wrinkled in consternation, but he said nothing.  Dhaja nodded with a smile and motioned with one hand for Guiseppe to continue his narrative.

“We were at the end of the second-to-last day of our journey here when it happened.  I was up at the front, driving the Steam Cart, when they hit us from behind.  Angelina took off like a squirrel for the sounds of fighting – happy to finally get to use those weapons of hers, I expect.”

“And where was Antoro?” I asked.

“Oh, he was inside the back of the Steam Cart, as he always is.  He's got a nice little office set up inside there and he doesn't come out for anything – not even to eat or sleep for the whole trip.  That's his custom, anyhow.”

“He's an odd one, Antoro is,” muttered one of the teamsters in a barely audible voice.

Guiseppe cleared his throat and glared into the mass of now-silent and innocent-looking teamsters.  “As I was saying,” he growled, “When the shooting started, we could hear those orcs squealing like pigs and Antoro yells at me to–“

“It weren't orcs, boss!” calls out a shaggy-haired man.  “It was prima'orcs, for sure!”

“Tony, you wouldn't know an orc from a troll!”

“You know, I think you're right there, those monsters looked more like trolls to me.”

“How can you say that?" another man yelped, "You were in the first cart to flee – you never even looked back to see anything!”

“And what's your point, Uthelo, eh?”

“Quiet!” hollered Guiseppe with a raised fist.  “I'm telling this tale!”

“Indeed,” Dhaja said softly.

Guiseppe glared at his peers before he continued, “Like I was saying before: Antoro yelled at me to make for Ashen with all haste and that Angelina would catch up once she dispersed the attackers.  I followed my orders and we didn't stop running until we reached town here at an ungodly hour.  Lost a couple of horses from the strain and we had to leave one of our carts behind.  Worst of all, Angelina never turned up.”

The group grew sullen and thoughtful at this last statement.

“So Angelina did not actually say that she would stay behind and hold off the enemy?” Fabro asked with a slight narrowing of his eyes.

“Not as such, no.  Didn't have time to, did she?  But Antoro and her always had plans and ideas for everything that might go wrong, so they probably worked it out beforehand.”

“A good lass, Angelina was,” said the female teamster quietly.

“Aye, and the best shot in Trat!” Guiseppe said boisterously.  “If she went to her reward, then you can be sure that she took a score of those devils with her!”  Much grumbled assent at this statement, but it was clearly cold comfort to her friends.

“So Antoro paid you to kill these orcs then?” one of the teamsters asked.

“Yeah!  What's your plan for hunting them down?”

Dhaja kept his intense expression quite constant, revealing nothing as to his own feelings as he answered: “No.  We are to protect you and your cargo from attack.  Should we be antagonized by bandits or orcs, we may chase them off, but that is all that our contract requires.”

The teamsters are surprised and a bit angry at learning this.  Apparently, they felt like we should have been hired to actively seek out the orcs that attacked them and killed one of their friends.  A rather vindictive attitude for people who live out in the wilderness!  One would expect a certain... understanding?  So.  An understanding that life outside of city walls may end violently at the hands of marauders of all stripes.  At least, that is what I would expect.  Perhaps things are different here?

Guiseppe nodded his head in the direction of the center of Ashen and said, “Uh-oh.  Mr. Bassini has arrived.  And from the scowl on his face, it doesn't seem like he found that item he was looking for – whatever it is.”

We all looked and there was Antoro walking with Sheik Kazim.  They were speaking together.  Antoro's face was quite angry, but Kazim was shaking his head in apparent sorrow and regret. 

I noticed that directly behind them was a huge scorpion – the chitin of its exoskeleton shimmering a dark purple and easily 12-feet long, not counting the tail.  Nihani rode confidently upon its back.  She seemed to be listening in on the conversation of the two men.  When one of them noticed her, she rode past them nonchalantly, and joined our group.

“All here?” Nihani called, guiding her mount expertly with her knees alone to come to halt.

The teamsters had melted away in ones and twos to return to their labors before the deputy mayor caught them standing around and talking instead of preparing for travel.  They cast nervous glances at the huge scorpion.

“What were they talking about?” Fabro asked with a raised eyebrow.

Nihani and Dhaja both looked at him askance, as if he had just committed some kind of grievous social blunder.  I did not see it myself, but I am new to this culture.

“It does not concern us,” Nihani replied coolly.  Fabro shrugged; the disapproving looks and tone were not noticed by him at all.

After a few more minutes of talking, the two men clasped forearms and Shiek Kazim left.  Antoro stomped over to the Steam Cart, looked each of us hired adventurers in the eye, and then climbed up into the rear of the cart.  Before he entered I heard him speak loudly and angrily at Guiseppe.

“An entire day wasted, waiting for these fool adventurers...  Let's move out!”  The door to the rear of the cart slammed shut.

The caravan formed up, with the Steam Cart taking the lead, its three trailing wagons loaded with food, wine, bolts of cloth, finished goods, and other sundry items.  The three horse-drawn wagons were completely empty and the animals looked glad of it after their run to Ashen two days prior.

Dhaja and Fabro rode near the front of the convoy while Nihani and I guarded the rear.  I must say that I have never been a part of such a noisy procession!  The din made by the Steam Cart was atrocious!  And the column of smoke heaving from it's smokestacks must be visible for miles around!  No wonder the orcs were able to find and ambush them so easily.

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